


Ours

by Avocadoz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Ghost is precious, Jon Snow is a Gift, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sansa is a BAMF, Suicide Attempt, Theon deserves better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-06-23 11:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15605361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avocadoz/pseuds/Avocadoz
Summary: Canon divergence.After escaping from the Boltons, Theon goes with Sansa to the Wall.





	1. Two dead men

**Author's Note:**

> I don´t know what I´m doing, please bear with me.

"Jon?"

Cold sweat trickled down Jon´s back as he jerked himself from sleep, eyes flying open as a familiar voice reached his ears.

_Lord Snow!" Davos Seaworth cried, bursting into his room._

_Jon blinked at him irritably, his eyes tired. “Aye?”_

_“There are people at the gates. One of them a girl who claims to be your sister.” He explained, trying to catch his breath._

_Jon felt goosebumps rising on his skin._   _“What?” He blurted. “Are you certain?”_

_Davos nodded sharply. “Yes I am.”_

_Jon´s head was reeling as he ran out into the walkway that twisted around the castle. Down below, men of the Night's Watch had formed a circle around the newcomers._

_Jon_   _bit the inside of his cheek, staring at the red-haired girl in the middle. It could not be, it could not…but it was. Sansa, here, at Castle Black. He felt his heart dissolve in his chest, his legs beginning to move on their own accord, staggering down the stairs and hobbling forward. A tall light-haired woman stood beside his sister, wearing a fine dark armor. Two men stood behind her, one of them slapping some snow off his shoulder. Jon paid them no mind. All he saw was Sansa._

_His sister flew to him. Luckily, she was light enough for him to lift and tuck into his chest, their curly heads pressed together tightly. "Jon." She whispered into his neck, over and over, until the word finally sunk into his racing mind, and he managed to croak back a weak. "Sansa."_

_For the longest while, they stayed like that, silently holding each other. Then at last, he had to set her down, a thousand questions burning on his tongue. Though before he got the chance to open his mouth, one of her companions caught his eye, and Jon froze solid, every hair on the back of his neck standing up in absolute horror._

_If it wasn’t for his sea green eyes, Jon would never had recognized him._

_Theon's face was pale, and so gaunt that Jon wanted to retch. His tattered rags were covered in mud and dirt, and his tangled hair had grown down to his shoulders._   _Ghost sniffed and poked at the palm of his hand with his nose, but Theon ripped his hand away, refusing to pet the wolf he had once been so fond of._

_A hot spark of anger rushed through Jon's body._

_He went to them._

_“Ghost. To me. Now.” He called sharply, though the wolf only edged closer to the thin man, happily nuzzling his leg._

_Jon grabbed Theon by the throat._

_Ghost snarled at that._

_Jon ignored him._

_“What are you doing here, Turncloak?” He hissed in anger, tightening his grip until Theon wheezed for breath. Tears fell from his hollow eyes, but he remained quiet, Jon´s fingers choking the voice from him._

_Jon tilted his chin up. ”I said what the fuck are you doing here?!"_

_Theon flinched, but met his eyes. "I...I, S-Sansa, she asked me..."He started, but Jon cut him off._

_"You murdered them!" He roared, tears blurring his vision. "I should kill you here and now!"_

_He gripped the sword sheathed at his waist and drew it halfway, but Sansa stopped him, pulling desperately at his arm._

_“No! Jon, please, wait. He didn’t kill them!” She squeaked, her voice laced with panic. "It wasn't Bran and Rickon!"_

_At that, the whole world came to a stop. He let Theon go, and the other man fell to the ground, his frail shoulders hunched as he hacked for breath._

_He didn't...?_

Theon stood in his doorway, regarding Jon warily. He looked somewhat better than he had yesterday, clad in a simple brown tunic and matching breeches, his tangled hair swept neatly behind his ears. Though his eyes were still red-rimmed from where he had been weeping, and the streaks his tears had left were plain on his face.

Jon regarded him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“I…I just wanted to know…” His voice was dry, and his lips moved clumsily, as if they had forgotten how to form words. “When will you do it?”  

Jon frowned, uncertain of what it was that he meant. “Do what?”

Theon´s face turned down in a twisted expression, and tears started to trickle from his eyes. “Execute me.” He whispered. “When will you do it?”

Jon felt an aching pain searing through his chest. “I´m not doing that, Theon.” 

At that, Theon shut his eyes as if in agony, his sunken cheeks and dark eye sockets betraying his half-starved condition. Looking at him now, it was easy to forget the constantly smiling youth Jon had once kissed in secret and lusted for as long as he could remember. That boy was nothing but a shadow now, a bleak façade of who he used to be.  

Theon sniffed, his breathing heavy. “Why not?” He cried, his voice cracking. “I deserve to die for what I did to your family, what I did to…to Robb. I…I murdered children.”

 _So did I._ Jon thought. Olly had murdered him first, that much was true. But he had been a child still, no older than Bran.

The guilt of it was crushing.

 "Why?"

"I...It doesn't matter now."

Jon frowned. "No, perhaps not."  

A long moment of awkward silence passed between them. Jon watched the tears that slid down Theon´s white cheeks, and wondered why he was still here. 

“I overheard your men earlier in the yard…” Theon said at last. “They said that you…that you came back from the dead.”

Jon pressed his fingertips into his eyes. “I did.” He said. “Some of my brothers, they stabbed me in the heart for helping the wildlings. They named my traitor. The red lady, she brought me back.”

Theon frowned. “But, how…?”

“I don’t know.”

Theon glanced at him nervously. “What… what was it like? Being dead.”

_Images of people he loved flickered before his eyes as his blood colored the white snow red._

_The proud tilt of his father´s chin._

_Robb´s river blue eyes._

_The proper pout of Sansa´s face._

_Bran and Rickon´s heartwarming hugs._

_Ygritte´s mischievous grin._

_Arya´s wild belly laughs._

_The sharp wind whipped against his face as he listened to Ghost howling in the distance._

_He looked up at the stars and wondered if he they were waiting for him._

_Then he closed his eyes._

_And was no more._

Now, everything felt wrong, turned upside down. It felt as if a part of him was missing.

Jon lowered his gaze. “There was nothing. No one.”

A sorrowful look crossed Theon´s face, and he let out a muffled sob.

Jon understood why Theon had asked, what it was that he wanted to know. Once, Jon had wanted to know as well. He had wanted to know what had happened to his father, to Robb and to Ygritte, after they had gone. He had wanted to know if they were happy, if he would ever get to see them again.

Now that he knew, he wished that he did not.

Still, he could not bring himself to lie to Theon. Not now. Not about this.

He was sobbing openly now, and Jon could no longer stand it. He took a hesitant step forward, and then another, and then he reached to wipe some tears of Theon´s cheek with his thumb. It would be wiser not to, it would be wiser to send him away, but in that moment, Jon could not help but to give in, and wrap his arms around Theon.

He was as cold as a walking corpse.

As cold as Jon himself.

_Jon´s face was warm. The ale, he remembered. Yet he found himself thinking about Greyjoy. It had only been a few hours since he had taken Jon in the abandoned mill, up against the wall like they were in a hurry, but Jon found himself yearning for his touch all over again._

_My first and only, he thought as he touched the reddened skin on his neck, hidden by his dark curls. He liked that mark, it meant that he was Theon´s._

"I miss them too. So much." Jon whispered into Theon´s shoulder, allowing him to press into Jon´s chest. 

Theon smelled of soap and snow, but the faintest scent of sea salt lingered in the curve of his neck. Jon ran a hand through his tousled hair, and let himself melt into the touch.

It had been so long, gods, how Jon had missed this.

Theon pressed his nose to Jon´s skin, and Jon…

Jon pressed his lips to Theon´s mouth.

It was just for a second, a quick soft kiss before Theon froze solid, pulling away. “Don’t.” He croaked. “Don’t do that. You don’t want me, not now, not after…after.”  

Jon glanced at him warily, giving him some space to breathe. "After what, Theon?" He asked, waiting for Theon to calm down before bringing his hands up to caress his face, grazing his nose with his own and following it up with a tender press of his lips. 

Theon hiccupped. "You won´t want to know." 

“Will you…” For a second, Jon hesitated. “Will you come to bed?”

Theon´s eyes widened.  “You want me to stay?”

Jon blushed a little, but nodded.  “Only if you want to.” He said.

Theon lowered his gaze, nervously gnawing at his cracked lip. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Don’t say that.” Jon disagreed.

“You won´t want me once you see.”

Jon led Theon towards the bed, planting another kiss on the corner of his mouth. “See what?”

Theon whimpered against his touch. “I…the scars, and…”

“I have scars too.” Jon admitted, sitting on the bed and gently hoisting Theon into his lap. “A great deal of them, in truth. Here, I´ll show you.” He guided Theon´s hand under his tunic, before pulling it over his head.

Theon studied the dark lines on his chest profoundly, touching the ones near Jon´s heart.

A faint smile pulled at his lips. "Will you show me yours?"

There was a silence.  Silence and cold and Theon´s sniffing. For a long moment, he looked so pale that Jon thought that he might faint, but then the thinner man gave a strained nod, and pulled off his bed shirt with trembling fingers.

Theon´s chest was the embodiment of cruelty. His entire torso was covered in scars, burns and marks. Most of them were old, but some of them were new, red cuts surrounded by purple bruising. His ribs were all on display, and his arms looked thin enough to snap.

Jon gaped, and for a second his horrified eyes met Theon´s. The broken man shivered, and looked away, his face twisted and tense.

“Did…did the Boltons to this to you?” Jon breathed, slowly reaching out to cup Theon´s face.

“Ra…Ramsay.” Theon choked. “Ramsay Bolton.”

Jon shivered. _Roose Bolton´s bastard boy._ Jon knew. _Legitimized._

“For how long?” He asked, not entirely sure if he wanted to know.

“I…I don’t know.” Theon murmured, fresh tears sliding down his worn face. “He took me prisoner after Winterfell, I…I´m not sure how long it´s been since then…”

_Years._

_That monster had him for years._

Despite the hate and betrayal, tears started to fall from Jon´s eyes and drip from his chin. Carefully, he reached to pull Theon into his arms, letting him rest his head against Jon´s shoulder. “I´m sorry.” He whispered into his ear. “I´m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Theon muttered, his voice stiff and tight. “I deserved everything that I got.”

At that, Jon felt a stab of anger in the pit of his stomach, and he drew back. “No.” He said hotly. “You didn’t. No one deserves that.”

Theon opened his mouth to argue, but Jon kissed him before he could. After some tender moments of their mouths pressing clumsily together, Jon pulled back, feeling the need to ask. “Is this alright?”

Theon nodded, and Jon let his hands wander. He carefully slid them over the whip marks on his back, lingering on the long sharp lines there, before caressing some uneven scars on his lower back and the X-marks on his upper arms, brushing his finger around the missing nipple and stroking the bruises that covered his left ribs. Theon gasped and whimpered, but seemed to enjoy the touch, timidly reaching around Jon´s back to draw him closer, all the while sucking on his lower lip.

They kissed and kissed, laying down on their sides facing each other as the moon colored the world in silver, their hands moving across shoulders and backs, not yet daring to slip lower. After what felt like forever, Jon hooked a leg around Theon´s longer ones, drawing him closer and sighing into his mouth as they finally allowed their bodies to press more fully against each other.

With a jolt, Jon realized that he had grown undeniably aroused, his cock hard against his stomach as Theon pressed keened against his chest. He pressed a small kiss to the sharp edge of Theon´s jaw, down the line of his throat, and slowly slipped a hand into his breeches to grope him…

At that, Theon paled, then jerked back and fell out of the bed. He stared up with fresh tears in his eyes, his entire body trembling like a leaf. “I´m sorry. I´m sorry. ” He wept, over and over as he curled into himself, balling his mutilating hands into fist under his chin, as if to make himself smaller.

“ _Theon?”_   Jon gasped, but he did not know what to say, what to do. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing that the Bolton boy done gone _that_ far, been so cruel, so absolutely _evil._ Jon swallowed down bile, remembering a time long passed.  

_The night lay still and heavy when Jon sneaked into Theon´s chambers and crawled under his furs. He lay sprawled out on his back, his face slack and mouth wide open, snoring loudly. Jon bent to lick his neck, and Theon snapped an eye open._

_“Snow?”_

_Jon boldly slipped a hand inside Theon´s breeches, wrapping his hand around his cock. “Will you take me again before dawn?” He purred into his neck, and Theon grinned widely._

_“You´re such a needy little virgin, aren’t you Snow? Coming here in the middle of the night, begging for my cock.” Theon mumbled against his lips, all the while grinding his cock against Jon´s hand. “You´ll be the death of me.”_

_Aye, Jon wanted to say as he deepened the kiss. I might be._

_Instead he pouted. "I'm not a virgin anymore."_

“I, I told you that you wouldn’t…wouldn’t want me now.” Theon sobbed into his elbow. “I´m…I´m not him....not anymore, I´m not a man. Reek, Reek, Reek. “ 

Jon did not know what he meant, but he knew that he had heard enough. He could not just sit there and watch Theon crumple. Leaning down to grab his wrists, Jon pulled him into the bed, wrapping his arms around him again, reaching for the hem of his breeches.

“Of course you´re still a man.” Jon said softly. “Come here. Let me see. Please.”

Theon sobbed. "But I, I..."

"It´s alright, Theon. I got you. Come here. You´re alright."

Together, they shakily pulled down the breeches down to his knees. Jon gritted his teeth at the feel of it, but he forced himself to not let his horror show, forced himself not to let his eyes linger on the bundle of red scars that now pressed against his lower stomach. Theon met his mouth again, heated and wet, and Jon slipped his tongue into his mouth, kissing him gently.

Then he wetted his fingers, and let them fall to Theon´s backside, teasing his hole.

Jon met Theon´s eyes. “Can I?”

“Y-yes.”

Jon leaned in, and gently nibbled on Theon´s nipple as he slipped his slicked finger inside him, tracing lines across his lower back with his other hand, his scarred skin soft beneath Jon's fingers. He licked and kissed along his chest as his hand found a rhythm, and when Theon let out a moan, he sucked a red mark into his skin, leaving wet trails in his wake. A part of Jon worried that Theon only pretended to like this, but it was just for a second. A second of doubt before he glanced up and caught his gaze, his lashes trembling as he blinked slowly, flushed.

Jon could feel the pre-come pulse out and soak into his own breeches as he pressed himself against Theon. Jon yanked them off.

Eyes closed, he pressed a series of kisses across Theon´s neck, feeling him jerk under his hand with every press of his finger, wanting nothing more than to make the other man feel good. Theon´s ass felt warm, and strangely silky as Jon pushed his finger in and out. Theon´s hand gripped the sheets, his legs stiff when Jon curled his arm around him to hold him still.

Theon gasped under Jon´s touch, and it was maddening.

“J-Jon, Jon.” He cried. “It, it feels…it feels, more.”

Hearing that made some animalistic part of him stir, and Jon purred at the sound of it, gently biting on Theon's lower lip. Boldly, he pushed another finger into his hole, all the while painting wide, wet strokes over his neck and jaw. Theon gripped a handful of Jon's hair in a fist and twisted it in his hand, and Jon fastened his pace, hot little flushes rushing down his spine.

Jon´s breeches were soaked, his smallclothes sliding wetly over his prick as he pushed against him, groaning against the sweat that hit his tongue and Theon´s hand in his curly hair. Theon was whimpering openly now, gasping and squirming in his hold.

Jon drew his hand away to pull down his own breeches, and Theon whined at the loss. 

“Come here.” Jon breathed, hefting Theon up with one arm beneath his ass, moving his legs until they were firmly wrapped around his waist and using the other to line his cock into place. Theon attacked his throat at once, breathing heavily against his jaw as he sunk, carefully, onto Jon´s slick cock.

Theon panted.

“Jon-“

 “Are you alright?” Jon gasped into his mouth. “Do you want me to stop?”

Theon sniffed, but shook his head, his watery eyes lidded. "No, don´t stop." 

At that, Jon tried a tentative roll of his hips, and Theon keened and trashed in pleasure. In this light, his eyes looked illuminating, and Jon could not help but stare into them as he tried to name the color. _Green, and blue._ He thought, but not quite. In the irises, there were smudges of brown as well, tiny drops of gold.

 _They look like the sea._ Jon remembered thinking once. _Unruly, and forever changing_

When Jon decided to move again, he started to fuck him at a leisurely pace, thrusting slow and careful, pulling out barely an inch or so at a time, just nearly rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of him.

“Does that feel good?” Jon murmured, fingers trailing Theon´s hipbones as he leaned down to run the flat of his tongue over the length of one of the scars across Theon´s collarbone.

“Y-yes."

Theon keened and whimpered, tightening his thighs around Jon´s hips as he leaned forward, letting Jon fuck him with enough force to leave him gasping for air.

"Jon, please, harder-“Theon croaked, and Jon obliged. "Ah-"

He lifted one of his legs over his shoulder and lunged inside with a different angle that caused Theon to yelp in surprise, his grip on Theon´s hip forceful as he stiffened to let out a loud moan, pushing his cock as hard as he could into him.

Theon´s hand found one of his, and Jon pressed it down against the furs, pinned it there and intermingled their fingers. Theon gazed at him as if he could see through him, and in that moment, Jon almost wished that he could.

“I´m going to kill him.” Jon blurted suddenly, gritting his teeth and rolling his hips as Theon squirmed and clenched against his cock.

He had not wanted to kill anyone in a very long time, but seeing the damage Bolton had done to Theon now, Jon felt a hot spark of hate lit up inside him. 

Theon may have betrayed their family and captured Winterfell, but despite everything, Jon could not help but still care for him. 

And Ramsay had broken him.

It stung.

“Jon-“Theon whimpered as Jon fucked him viciously, his thrusts deep and unforgiving, hips colliding with the soft flesh of Theon´s backside.

Pressure was building up inside him, bubbling in the pit of his belly, but he kept himself from letting go, not wanting to come until Theon did.

If he still could.

Jon pounded him into the pillows, the bedframe rocking beneath them, but when Theon started to moan and clench around him, Jon could not take it anymore. He came in bewildering long spurts that seemed to last forever, rutting against him still. But then he had to stop, his cock softening inside him.

Theon collapsed against him with a sigh, his body limp and boneless on Jon's chest. He was warm and panting where he lay, and Jon reached to stroke his sweaty curls.

"Did you...?" Jon asked anxiously.

It was Theon who kissed him then, pressing his lips up his jaw, until their mouths finally found each other. A shy smile pulled at his lips. "I...I think so. I didn't know that I still could..."

Jon bit the other man´s bottom lip gently, closing his eyes. 

Theon squeezed his arm. "Jon?"

Jon peeked a tired eye open. "Aye?"

"What...what will you do now?"

Jon took a moment to consider the question, pulling Theon closer. 

" _We_." Jon decided at last. "What will we do."


	2. A kraken and a wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is my favorite character, so I wanted to include her as well. And I´m not gonna lie, I ship Theonsa, though their relationship will be strictly platonic in this fic.

_At first, she had thought that Ramsay was like Joffrey._

_They both enjoyed to inflict pain. They both_ _basked in the idea of absolute control._ _Both of them lusted for power._ _And their eyes, they both glimmered with the same kind of madness._

_But she had been wrong. So very wrong._

_Joffrey was merely a child compared to this monster._

_Sansa pressed against the door like she was trying to push through it. She could hear Theon´s cries from where she sat, his whimpers muffled, through by his own will or Ramsay´s she did not want to know. Her new husband had grown tired of her at last, thrown her out of bed as soon as he had finished inside her, leaving her to listen in grim silence as Ramsay ripped off Theon´s tattered rags. Under them a hundred traces of unimaginable cruelty and pain._

_Theon trembled as he kneeled in front of the Bastard, and Sansa could see the utter humiliation and defeat in his watery eyes._

_Dropped in front of me, like a threat._

_It said: This is what will happen to you, if you disobey._

_Theon was weeping openly now, his agonized grunts of pain and hitched breath carrying easily to her ears as Ramsay held him down. This was not the proud boy Robb had called brother, this was not her knightly savior._

_She tried to drift away. Pretend to be somewhere else. Highgarden perhaps. She never got to see Highgarden. Margaery had told her about the roses that grew there. Growing strong. Those were the Tyrell words._

_As a child she had fancied roses._

_A pained cry echoed louder than it should and the sound of skin on skin wormed itself into her ears._

_The yellow ones were my favorites._

_Littlefinger had given her a yellow rose in a pot once._ _It had been the perfect gift._

_The rose only lived if someone else allowed it water and daylight. It lived by the grace of its owner._ _Like me, like me._

_Sansa closed her eyes._

_Her father´s voice echoed in her head. the wolf is of the North, she deserves better than a butcher._

_He had been talking about her wolf Lady, but looking at Ramsay now, it almost seemed like some God´s jape._

_Sansa swallowed her retch._

She stitched to keep her mind occupied. A velvet gown in light grey and white; the colors of her house. Heavy fur encircled its neck and jumping direwolves were embroidered on its chest, with red weirwood leaves surrounding them. It looked nothing like the southern silk dresses she had worn in King´s Landing, but that was her intention.

_I was never a Lannister, nor was I ever Alayne Stone or Sansa Bolton._

_I am a Stark._

_I will never be anything else._

When she was finished, she slipped into the dress, and regarded herself in the mirror. She still looked exhausted, and the bruises across her neck had not yet faded completely, but the foolish little girl she had once been was gone, and she could catch a glimpse of the woman she wanted to become.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky by the time Theon woke with a start.

He tried to recall the content of the dream, but all he could grasp was the lingering feeling of fear. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his memories were clouded.

Jon was fast asleep, having rolled to his side, peaceful in his slumber, his raven-black curls sprawled beneath his head like a pillow. For a moment Theon simply watched him sleep, studying the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, his face all soft and pretty.

He did not understand why Jon had taken him to bed last night, but he was certain that he would regret it the second he woke. He may had wanted Theon´s ruined body for the moment, but surely he could not have forgotten.

_You have to remember. You have to know your name. Traitor, Turncloak, Child killer. Reek, Reek it rhymes with freak._

But perhaps Reek could still be of some use. He could offer his body as he had with Ramsay, let Jon use him whenever he felt the need to spend and sleep on the floor next to his bed. It would only be just, after what he had done to his family.

Though Jon did not seem interested in punishing him, judging from how he had treated him last night. He had kissed Theon gently, and touched him so softly that it made his insides tingle. Theon felt selfish for enjoying it now; Jon deserved better, and Theon deserved to be alone.

He slowly untangled himself from the sleeping man beside him and bent to collect his discarded clothes. It had taken him some effort to bathe and dress, but in the end he had managed it, even if it felt like betrayal. A brown tunic, breeches, leather boots.

A mocking voice rang in his ear.  _Did you pay the gold price for that, or the iron?_

Outside, the castle was beginning to stir. Theon tilted his head back and breathed in the crisp, cold air. The chilly wind whipped against his pale cheeks.

If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine that it was the wet breeze of the Iron Islands. As a little boy he had been frightened by Pyke´s wet weather, scared of the loud thunder and battering rain. His older brothers had mocked him for it, called him a little wench and slapped him across the face. But his mother had let him hide under her covers, held him close and hummed the only song she remembered, about a fisherman who had fallen in love with a mermaid. Theon could no longer picture her face, but he recalled how safe he had felt, pressed against her chest.

He looked up at the sky. 

The Wall did not smell like the Iron Islands. It smelled like winter, if such a thing had a smell. Theon disliked it. It reminded him of a time before, when there had been happiness and warmth in the world...

But now, everything was frozen.

He spent the rest of the day not doing much, wandering outside the castle, trying to keep out of everyone´s way. There was not much worth seeing, and it was so cold, but he was alone, and that was all he really wanted.

After the escape, Sansa had begged him not to leave her, and last night, Jon had told him that he wanted him to stay, but Theon still felt as if he did not belong here. 

But then again, he had never really belonged anywhere.

At first, he had thought about going back to Pyke, but that had only been a fool´s wish. His father had disowned him years ago, and his sister had given up on him the moment he had betrayed her in the Dreadfort. All they would see now was a beat dog, a gelded skeleton with barely enough skin to cover his frail bones.

And they had thought that he was weak before...

_I should go back into the frosty woods, lay down on a bed of white and fall asleep._

When the sun dipped low in the sky, he stumbled back to the castle and hid under his bed.

_Coward, craven, weak, weak..._

His body still shook from the cold, and snow had bled through his garments, but that was what he deserved.  

He curled up into a ball, and cried until he drifted asleep.

What must have been hours later, he was startled awake by someone touching his arm. He let out a strangled gasp of alarm, and scrambled backwards.

“Theon, it´s alright. It´s only me.” Sansa said, her blue eyes soft in her face.

“Come out from under there.”

Theon crawled out from under the bed.

“What is it?” He croaked. “Is something wrong?”

Sansa shook her head and smiled. Then she took his hand in hers, and pressed a bundle of warmth into his arms.

“I made this, for you.”

Theon gaped at her, unfolding the garment. It was a dusty green cloak in wool, trimmed with thick fur and brown leather straps at the chest. A black kraken was stitched to its side, and a direwolf was embroidered on the opposite side. A secret.

“I did not know which sigil you would prefer, so I chose both.” She said.

Theon stared. “It… it looks like the one I used to wear in Winterfell, the one which didn’t have any sigils, or at least not at first, not until -“

_When Lord Stark gave him the cloak on his twelfth name day, Theon was disappointed that it lacked the Stark sigil, but he did not let it show. He simply bowed and thanked his warden for such a fine gift, and went to take his seat at the far end of the table._

_Robb had noticed though, he always did. He sat down beside him, and asked what was wrong with the present._

_“It has no sigil on it.” Theon told him sourly._

_“You´re a Greyjoy.” Robb said. “It would look wrong if you were dressed as a Stark.”_

_Robb spoke the truth, but the words still hurt._

_“But it’s plain. It has no kraken on it either. It’s as if Lord Stark thinks of me as a bastard.”_

_Robb did not argue with that._

_The next day, Sansa came to his room, carrying her embroideries and needles._

_“Just so you know, Robb gave me a silver stag for this.” She told him, and Theon looked at her in bewilderment._

_“Now, where do you want the kraken?”_

Sansa smiled. “I know. I made one for Jon as well. His is black though, and without any krakens, of course.”

Theon wiped some tears away. He was overwhelmed, and confused. “Sansa, why would you make something this beautiful… for _me_?”

Sansa tucked a lock behind his ear. “Because I care about you.”

_You shouldn’t._

Theon said nothing.

“Will you wear it for me, when we retake Winterfell?” She asked, her eyes burning.

Theon looked at her, suddenly uncertain. “Wha- What do you mean?”

"Ramsay." Said Sansa. "I want him dead."

Theon shuddered in horror. "We can´t..." He croaked. "He has an army, we..." 

"Winterfell is our home. It belongs to us. We have to fight for it." 

“But…how?”

“Jon saved thousands of wildings at Hardhome. They owe their lives to him. They´ll help us if we ask them." 

Theon bit his lip, his heart stuttering in his chest. "Do you...do you really think that we can beat him?" 

 Sansa squeezed his hand. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and feedback are always appreciated:))


	3. To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as it turns out, 5 chapters may not be enough to wrap this story up, so I updated it to 6. But knowing myself, I might change it again. We´ll see. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the angsssst.

Theon stared at the piece of paper in his hand. He could see were Jon had clutched it tightly, smudging the letters.

_To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow._

_You allowed thousands of wildings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind, you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine bastard, come and see. I want my bride back, I want my Reek. Give them to me, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep them from me, and I will ride north and slaughter every man, woman and child living under your protection._ _Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon-_

Theon dropped the letter.

“No-“

Jon reached for him, his face dark in the dim light.

Theon stood abruptly, his chair crashing to the floor. “Don´t touch me.”

Jon pulled his hand away.“We´ll get him back.” He urged, his voice as thin as a needle. “We´ll save him. I promise.” Theon could see the trembles that run through him.

_No._

_He´ll make a game of it now. He´ll lure us to him and then he´ll kill him right in front of our eyes before killing us too._

_If he´s feeling kind._

Theon swallowed his retch. “You can´t promise that.” He said, wiping some fresh tears from his eyes. An image of Ramsay leering down at little Rickon came to mind, and with it, a sickening pain that shot through his stomach.

_My fault._

_I´m the one who forced him to flee, I´m the one who-_

“You´re right. But we have to try.” Jon rose to his feet. “We have to do everything that is in within our power to save him.” He spoke fiercely, but he did not understand. He did not know what Ramsay was, what he would do, what he liked to do.

_And if he is lucky, he never will. He should feel grateful. Grateful, grateful, grateful._

Theon shook his head. “It would have been better if he had died.” 

There was a long pause, a biting coldness in the air as Theon watched in dull silence as Jon paled, his face crumpling in shock and horror.

“How can you say that?” Jon cried, his lips locked in a disgusted grimace.

Theon lowered his head in shame, his body starting to tremble.  

Jon grabbed his wrist tightly, his eyes suddenly ablaze. “Answer me!”

A pang of terror washed over Theon like a wave, and he stumbled backwards, collapsing on the ground in tears. “I´m sorry!” He blurted at once. “I´m sorry, I´m sorry!”

Jon´s face twisted in a snarl, as cold as snow. He let him go. “You´ve known Rickon since he was born. You used to carry him around the castle, Theon, how can you..?”

Theon flinched at his words, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. “I´m sorry.” He kept saying, over and over until he no longer knew what it was that he had said wrong. Still he kept apologizing, for all that he had done, for his past and his present and his future, for Winterfell and Robb and the children. A part of him wanted Jon to punish him, cut off a finger or knock out a tooth to teach him a lesson, but he couldn't speak, he couldn't-

_I killed the rest of them as well, didn’t I?_

_The wolves and Hodor and Bran._

_I murdered them all._

The guilt gnawed on his insides, and a taste of bitter and bile filled his mouth, like wretched food on his tongue.

He turned to his side.

And retched all over the carpet.

“Theon…?”

Jon gasped, his anger turning into pity. It sickened Theon so much that he felt like puking again.

“Look at me.”

Theon rocked back and forth against the wall, staring at the floor.

Jon kneeled down beside him, and carefully reached to place a hand on the crown of Theon´s head, running his fingers through his tangled hair. “Will you just look at me, please?” He almost whispered, his voice breaking, but Theon edged away, stumbling to his feet.

And ran.

Jon´s voice followed him through the corridor and down the stairs, echoed inside his head as he tripped over a snowy branch by the stables. He kneeled down in a corner, and threw up again when the voice started to sound like Ramsay.

 _I should trade myself for Rickon. It´s the right thing to do._ He thought madly, even though he knew that it would never work.

_The heir to Winterfell for a broken plaything. His life is worth ten times as much as mine._

Ramsay would never agree to it.

The snows drifted heavily over the castle, coating everything and everyone in white as it had for several months now. Theon could smell the cold in the air from where he sat, could see the icicles forming on the frosty window. Eventually, he started to sob, his shoulders trembling as his body begun to grow cold. Then he started to feel warm, a  strange drowsiness dulling his senses. Distantly, he knew that this meant that he was dangerously close to freezing, but he could not find it in him to care. Death by cold was said to be a kind way to go, and after feeling cold for so long, he welcomed the heat, even if he knew that it was false.

It would be better this way, he decided, to let go.  

As he lay there in the snow, he thought of Sansa, about her admirable resilience and will to survive, thought of Jon, about his kind heart and soft lips, of how he would be upset at first, but then forget about him, of Robb and Bran and Rickon, the brothers he had failed so badly, the miller´s boys and Ramsay, and how they had been the root of so much pain, so much guilt. 

_Guilt that will stay with me for the rest of my days._

The battering snowfall and his blurred vision made the world seem like a dream. 

A howl spilt the air, but it was only the wind.

He closed his eyes, and let it lull him to sleep.

* * *

The sea embraced him like a warm wave, and white flickered above the surface.

A wet tongue slid against his eyebrow.

Theon let out a wail, and opened his eyes.

Someone was licking him in the face. 

He scrambled away as fast as he could, blinking repentantly against the dim light.

Ghost lay on the bed in front of him, his fluffy warm body heavy on top of Theon´s legs.

Theon felt a stab of shame run through him as soon as he realized. 

_I´m not dead._

Jon leaned against the wall beside them, weeping silently. Time seemed to slow around them, as Theon stared, stunned by the other man´s tears. He could not remember the last time he had seen Jon cry like that.

“Theon?” He sniffed, tears trickling from his red-rimmed eyes. “What in the seven hells were you thinking? You could have died!”

Theon snorted, toying idly with the short hair on Ghost´s head. The wolf purred.

Jon grabbed his hand. “What were you thinking?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me.” Jon snapped. “It matters to Sansa.” 

Theon looked up, trembling slightly. “Have you told her?”

Jon shook his head, glancing at Theon with a troubled expression. “I wanted to speak to you first.”

Theon gritted his teeth. “I killed them.” He whispered, his voice cracking. “Bran and Rickon, I killed them when I forced them to flee.”  

“It was not you who gave him to Ramsay, and Bran, we don’t know where he is. He could be hiding-”

Theon shook his head. “Stop it! You know that they would never split up. If Ramsay doesn’t have him then he´s dead!”

“We don’t know that!” Jon snapped, his eyes wet and bleary.

Theon let out a sharp breath. “I don’t deserve to be here.” He rasped. “I don’t deserve you.”

Jon grimaced as if he had stabbed him. “That´s not true, Theon, look at me.” He croaked, cupping the side of Theon´s face.

“I´m not even a man.” Theon whimpered, his lip quivering.

"You are." Jon told him, moving to scoop him into his arms, laying him down on his back. There he sank to kiss him, carefully, gradually pressing his lips to Theon´s.

Theon paused when he did, and waited until Jon had almost pulled back. Then he leaned forward, and timidly kissed him back, brushing their noses together. 

"Of course you are. And I want you, just as much as I did when we were younger."  Jon told him gently. 

“Jon…” Theon stammered, hesitating. “You shouldn’t treat me like…like this, you shouldn’t…”

Jon silenced him with another kiss, slipping his fingers down his spine. Theon shivered against the touch, but could not help but sag against the warm and steady hands cradling his back.

"I should." Jon whispered, his voice as soft as silk. " I know you Theon. You're good, even if you don't believe it." 

And with those words Jon gave him the slightest of hope, like first light of dawn rising above the horizon. He took a sharp breath, and allowed himself to relax, pushing the spark of warmth into his memory.

Jon bent to nuzzle his neck, pressing his nose to the curls there, and Theon did not remember a time before when Jon had been this tender, did not recall feeling the beat of his heart pounding this fast against his chest, but he could hear it now, and it somehow it unnerved him so much that he had to concentrate to breathe.

The softness still felt so foreign, and he still felt underserving, but as Jon draped the furs over their bodies, all the way up to their necks, Theon felt safe, safer than he had in years.

Even though he knew that he was not.  


	4. Liars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I struggled sooo much with this chapter and I´m still not 100% pleased with it, but what can I do...? Please let me know what you think! ;)
> 
> Uppdate: I updated this chapter. And by that I mean that I added some lines and corrected some errors that I found. So to those who read this while it was newly updated, feel free to reread.

“Is that wise, my lady?” said Brienne, regarding Sansa with concern. “He sold you to the Boltons.”

Sansa felt in her pocket, letting her fingertips brush the edge of Littlefinger´s letter. She hated him with passion, but perhaps the man could be used as a mean to her end.

Brienne looked at her sharply. “He will want something.”

Sansa felt as lifeless as a doll. In her mind, she could still hear the echo of his sly voice. 

_Everything, my love. Everything there is._

“I know exactly what he wants.”

Brienne swallowed.

"You wanted to speak to me." Jon walked up to them, fresh snowfall in his hair. Ghost strolled behind him, looking like a big wolf-shaped snowball.

 “Yes.” Sansa told him firmly. “Are all our plans in order?”

“Aye, it´s just…” He said in a gruff voice. “Theon…”

Sansa mouth turned down. “The Northern houses still thinks that he murdered Bran and Rickon. “

Ghost whined, and Jon let him suck on his finger. He looked at her tiredly. “Then we must tell them the truth.”

Sansa put her fingers on her temple. “Theon is Ironborn, and a known traitor. The truth will not change their opinion on him.”

Jon´s face turned ugly and sullen.“We cannot leave him here!”

“If they see him, they _will_ refuse us.” 

“I´m not going to stand there, and lie!” Jon snapped. He was angry now, his jaw hard and his eyes dark.

Sansa sighed. “Keeping him hidden is not lying, Jon.”

“It isn’t right.”

Sansa felt a stab of frustration. “Do you want to do what´s right, or save Rickon?”

Jon stared at her, his pale face turning sullen. “Stop twisting my words, of course I want to save him!”

"Then please, you must let me do this. It is the safest path." Sansa insisted. 

"It doesn´t matter." Jon told her. "I won´t leave him here." 

Sansa let out a deep breath, and touched his cheek. "He can still come with us, as long as he doesn't attend the meetings. Please, Jon, you must trust that I know this." 

Jon sighed. "I don´t like it." He said. "He doesn´t do well alone. I´m scared of what he might do." 

Sansa regarded him suspiciously. “You´ve always disliked Theon, why do you suddenly care so much?”

Jon´s cheeks darkened. He hesitated. “I'm not going to let him hurt himself. Whether I like him or not is off the point.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes.

_You are a liar, dear brother. A bad one, but a liar still._

* * *

A day later, Jon woke to a sunray hitting his face.

Theon was still dozing on his chest, snoring softly. Jon sank to press a kiss on top of his head, inhaling the scent of salt and sleep there.

Theon´s eyes flew open.

“Sorry.” Jon whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Theon gazed at him for a long moment, timidly fitting his palm against Jon´s, comparing their sizes.

“It’s alright.”

Jon took his hand and kissed it, not sure what else to say.

Theon´s eyes were distant, like the sea at dawn.  “I dreamed of something.”

Jon folded Theon´s hand carefully in his."What was it?" 

"Do you remember the first time I kissed you?" 

_“My girl Ros told me a little secret last night.” Theon drawled from across the table. “Apparently Snow paid her a visit.”_

_Jon turned to him, his heart racing._

_Robb gaped at his brother, his river blue eyes round in his freckled face. “What?”_

_Theon smiled widely. “Ran off like a little girl as soon as she stripped naked, she said.”_

_Jon blushed deeply, tears welling up in his eyes. He should have known better than to visit Theon´s favorite whore, should have known that she would tell him. But she had been kind to him, and like a stupid boy, he had been stupid enough to trust her._

_“Was it because your mother was a whore too, Snow?” Theon laughed._

_The sly grin that slid across his face made Jon hot as fire. He threw himself over the table at Theon in rage, screaming. “Liar, liar, liar!”_

_Though Greyjoy only smirked and threw him off._

_That night, Jon hid in the Godswood, drinking his fill and weeping into the soft fur of Ghost´s stomach._

_“Done sulking, yet?” A familiar voice asked softly, and Jon sat up with a jolt._

_Theon leaned against a tree, smiling his stupid smile._

_Jon glared at him, wiping some tears away."What are you doing here?"_

_Theon's grin widened. "Why I followed you, of course._

_“Leave me alone.”_

_Theon did not. He knelt in front of Jon, and reached to push a wet lock from his eyes. “Are you still mad at me?”_

_Despite himself, Jon felt as fragile as a butterfly wing. He tried to summon the anger from before, but found that he could not. “My mother´s not a whore, Greyjoy.” He muttered, his voice breaking._

_Theon sighed and cupped his chin. “No, perhaps not." He said, studying Jon´s wet face. “But she must have been beautiful.”_

_Jon blinked. “What…?”_

_Theon pressed his lips to his, and Jon went limp against his touch._

Jon nodded. “You were such an ass back then.”

Theon smiled weakly, squeezing Jon´s hand. 

"I dreamt about that day." Theon explained. "I dreamt about you, about _summer_...for the first time since, since...."

Jon held tighter to him, hiding them both beneath the furs. Theon trembled, and Jon dragged him closer trying desperately to make him warm.

"I´m..." Theon stuttered, uncertain. "I´m exhausted, Jon. All that we must do, everything that is yet to come. Why do I feel like giving up before we´ve even begun?" 

Jon kissed him lightly. "When all of this is over, what would you like to do?" 

Theon´s mouth dropped open slightly. Then it snapped close. The question seemed to have startled him, and it took some time for him to regain his composure. "I... I don´t know. I try not to think of such things." 

Jon met his eyes. "Why not? I think of it." He asked. "It gives me faith. We could do whatever we wanted, we could kiss in the hot springs and fall asleep under the summer sky. We could travel around the world if we liked." 

Theon peered up at him, his eyes gleaming in the sunlight. "Is that what you want?" 

"Aye." Jon said with a grin. "Amonst other things." 

Theon was quiet for a moment, and Jon listened to his heartbeat. His thumb and finger captured Theon´s chin, tilting it up. "Can I...can I touch you?" 

Theon hesitated. They were so close that the rest of his face became a blur. Jon could see a redness across his cheeks, below the dark circles under his eyes. Holding him tighter, he felt the bumps of his spine under his fingers. Last night, he had sat with him for hours, watching him crumple in misery and pleaded with him to eat.

Theon had refused.

The guilt and grief on his face had caused his own to tighten like a noose around his neck.

“You can tell me no.” Jon said. “I´m not going to do anything you don’t want me to. You may not believe me, but it´s true. I´m not going to hurt you.”

 Theon stared at him, looking so terribly lost. "You can... you can touch me.” 

Jon brushed their lips together, then, and Theon sank into the kiss, pulling Jon against him as he grasped the back of his neck. Jon smiled as he drew away, placing a soft kiss on Theon´s mouth again before pressing his lips against his nose and forehead.

Theon glanced up at him as he began to pull off their clothes, and Jon bent to kiss his chest, letting his lips wander lower and lower until he finally found the waist of his breeches. Theon let out a deep breath, and Jon placed a kiss on his hipbone, nuzzling his nose into the soft of his groin.

“Jon-“

“May I take them off?” Jon breathed, his hands running down Theon´s back to squeeze his bum.

Theon nodded shyly, and Jon felt some of the tightness in his belly loosen. He slipped his fingers under the waist, and slowly dragged them, all the while kissing his hips and stomach, lingering on an X-shaped scar there.

 _Not yours._ He thought madly. _Never yours._

Theon´s hands clenched, and he bit down hard on his lip, making it bleed a little. Jon ran his tongue up the inside of his thigh, taking long breaths and letting them out on the bundle of pink scars between his legs. 

“It´s hideous.” Theon said bitterly, looking at Jon through his tears as he inspected the skin between his legs.

Jon shook his head. "it´s not." He told him affectionaly, running a finger down the small of his back. “And you´re beautiful.”

Theon looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Then he frowned. “You don’t have to lie.”

 “I´m not lying.” Jon said, sucking on the skin just above the reddened flesh.

Theon squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain. “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t want this, it´s not right. He…he wouldn’t like it.”

Jon glanced up at him, his eyes on fire. “You´re not there anymore.” He breathed. "You´re free. I´m not going to let him touch you, ever again." 

Theon met his eyes, and Jon finally bent to close his mouth over his groin. The skin felt hot and strange in his mouth, but Jon marveled at the salty but not unpleasant scent. He reached for his ass, and kneaded his cheeks like dough, taking his time before slipping a finger inside the crack to tease his hole.

Theon tensed at the touch, and pulled away slightly, a fresh tear sliding down his cheek. “I´m sorry.” He whimpered. “It´s just…I can´t feel anything…It doesn´t…”

Jon wiped it away. “You…you never have to apologize for that.” He said, standing to fetch the bottle of oil from the dresser, which Theon eyed with interest. “Let me try something else. I´ll make you feel good, I promise. “

Theon smiled then, just a hint of it, pushing himself up on the bed. “Is that yours?”

Jon blushed.  “We spent a night in Mole´s town. I found it in a tavern there. ”

Theon´s wet eyes were gleaming. “And you took it so that you could have some fun with one of your brothers in black?”

Jon glared at him. “No!” He blurted. “I swore a vow.”

Theon shot him a look.

Jon sighed. “I used it on myself.” He admitted, opening the flask to slick his fingers. He did not want to tell Theon about Ygritte, not in this moment at least.

_It would only ruin the mood._

Theon regarded him with amusement. “Is that so?”

Jon nodded shyly, caressing the tight ring of Theon´s hole, searching for a way in. 

“I thought about you, sometimes.” He muttered, pushing one finger inside. “I hated myself for it, but I could not help it. I missed how it felt, how I felt with you.”

Theon let out a harsh breath as Jon twisted his finger deeper, brushing against the spot made Theon squirm and buck against his hand. Shifting to his side, Jon pushed a second finger in, using his other hand to squeeze his ass before dipping his fingers into the crease, tickling the skin there.

“Jon, please, more.” Theon whined, clutching the pelts. 

Jon shoved Theon back against the bed, pushing him down onto his back, stopping only long enough to pull down his own trousers and fling them across the room. He poured some oil along his hardened length until it glistened, and Theon opened his mouth, spreading his legs and arching his hips in an effort to get closer, to get Jon inside of him now.

“Good?” Jon breathed, squeezing his hand. Tiny shivers ran through his body, anticipation and nerves making his fingers tremble.

“Y-yes.”

Jon pressed the head of his cock against his entrance, and Theon let out a choked sound. Then he pressed harder, stretching him. His heart momently stuttered, and then it began to gallop.

“Gods.” Jon panted, and put one hand on Theon´s knee, pushing it up, and that was all he needed to slide all the way in. The base of his cock pressed against his cheeks, enough so that he could feel the soft hairs there. Theon moaned.

He had missed this, gods, so much.

Jon started to thrust then, slowly at first, his eyes rolling back at the overwhelming pleasure. His vision flickered white and back again and he drove himself deeper, their skin slapping together.

Theon lunged up to grab him in a hungry kiss, and the movement hit Jon just right. He grabbed the sheet and twisted it in his hand until it ripped, but it did not matter, nothing did, nothing except Theon´s smile and skin and warmth. His body was slick and trembling, and they breathed into each other´s mouths, the scent of him so strong that it became all that Jon could think about. His cock pulsed, and he tightened his grip, but it was not enough, not-

 “L-look at me.” Theon gasped, and Jon met his eyes. His mouth was wide open, and swollen from their kisses.  “Jon, please.”

“Come for me.” Jon murmured against his lips. “Come for me, Theon.”

Theon bit Jon´s lip and did, peaking with a noisy whine, his whole body clenching around Jon´s cock. The whole time, Jon kept fucking him, whispering soothing nonsense until Theon was spent and trembling. Then he pulled out and came all over his chest, his vision going fuzzy. Theon kissed him messily and Jon inhaled the smell of salt.

Jon reached to grab something off the floor to clean them both off, wiping his seed off their bellies before crawling up next to him, pillowing his hand on Theon´s chest.

Theon lips curled upwards. “That was my shirt.”

Jon sat up. “Oh…sorry…” He said, dumbstruck. “You can...you can borrow one of mine.”

Theon kissed his head. “I'd like that.”

Jon closed his eyes and hummed. He wanted to stay here as long as he could, pretend that the world outside did not exist. Hide from the cold and the wights and the Boltons.  There was so much that threatened to drag them down, but still Jon hoped that they could whether it together.

 _Just a few more minutes._  He promised himself.  _Just a few more minutes before we'll return to reality._

* * *

 “Littlefinger sent me a letter. He wishes to speak to me." Sansa said, her braided hair blowing in the icy wind.

“The man who sold you to the Bolton?” Theon asked thinly, his new mantle whispering across the snow.

Sansa nodded curtly. “Yes.”

Theon's eyes were stormy. “Are you going to meet with him?”

“I need to, I think.” Said Sansa. "He said that he would protect me, I need to ask him why he didn´t." 

Theon bristled beside her. “It´s not safe.”

Sansa smiled softly. “Brienne will accompany me.” She reassured him. “But Theon, I don’t want Jon to know. I´m not sure that he would understand. He might to something...unwise.”

Theon took a shuddering breath, and nodded. “I promise.” He said.

“On your honor as a Greyjoy?” She asked.

A weak smile pulled at his lips. “Truth is, Greyjoys have less honor than thieves.”  

Sansa reached for his hand. “On your honor as a Stark, then?”

Theon stared at her. “Sansa…”

“Swear to me.” 

Theon met her eyes. “I swear to you, on my honor as your friend.”

Sansa shot him a look.

Theon grinned, and Sansa caught a glimpse of his broken teeth. “That´s the best I can do.”

Sansa smiled. “For now.”


	5. Still you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #Exhausted
> 
> that is all.

The sky was a gloom shade of grey, darkening with every passing second. Theon lay on the windowsill, resting his head on Ghost´s stomach.

Quietly, he unfolded the rolled up parchment from his pocket, smoothed it out, and read it again.

_Asha._

_I know that you do not wish to hear from me, or ever see my face again, but I want you to know that you were right. I should never have tried to claim your right to the throne, or captured Winterfell. It was stupid and wrong, and for that I am sorry. I aimed to win father´s respect and approval, but all I did was hurting everyone around me._

_After Winterfell, I became nothing. Ramsay tortured my body and soul, and in the end, I broke. That is why I refused to go with you. I thought it was some trick of his, a game to test my loyalty. It does not excuse my betrayal, but perhaps it explains my actions._

_It was not after I escaped together with Sansa Stark that I started to find myself. Some version of myself at least. Yet it always feels as if it could be swept away again. But that does not mean it will, and it does not mean that I will not find myself again if it does. I am going to help Sansa retake her home and save her little brother from Ramsay, die for her if need be. No deed can erase what I did to her family. Nothing can erase the stain._ _But that is alright. I do not want forgiveness. I just want to help her._

_I hope that you are happy, wherever you may be._

_Theon._

Ghost snored softly, and Theon closed his eyes, flipping the piece of paper through his fingers.

He considered if he should write one for his father as well, but he supposed it would be for naught. The old man had declared him dead years ago, sent him away and left him to rot. He would most likely throw the letter out the window as soon as he spotted his son´s name. 

Yet, some tiny part of him still yearned for his approval.

_He promised me that we could go fishing together, once._

_And he gave me a dagger._

It was the only present Theon had ever received from him, a late gift for his seventh name day. It had not been a pretty thing, but it had been sharp, and according to Balon, that was all that mattered. Theon had lost it long ago, but he still remembered what it looked like. 

Perhaps because it made him think of what could have been, if he had stayed.

* * *

Steam rose from the bath, fragrant with the scent of amber and soap. A warm fog hung in the air, turning the wooden columns into men, thin guardians shrouded in mantles of haze. Jon sank into the tub, water leaping around his thighs, his knees, his chest. A cup stood on the sill, brimming with dark ale, and a candle sat beside it. Outside, the snow was falling still, drifting in silence from a grey sky.

 _Winter is here_. Jon thought, taking a sip from his goblet. In the twenty and two years he had spent in the North, it had never been truer than it was now. As a boy, he had never known it to be anything other than snowball fights and rosy cheeks, but so much had changed with the seasons.

Treachery, murder and ruthless cold. _We should never have left home. We should have stayed in Winterfell, all of us. Starks don’t do well when they march on the south. We should have…should have…_ But it was too late. The past was long gone, and Jon did not want to think of all that had gone wrong, all that had happened.

 _We are still alive._ He told himself. _Sansa, Theon, Ghost, Sam. Rickon. Perhaps Arya and Bran as well._

Shutting his eyes, he repeated their names in his head, over and over, trying to find strength in them, drifting…

_Rickon…_

_“Jon!”_

_Jon was startled out of his thoughts by a mudball to the face._

_Rickon had jumped into a puddle of dirt, and now it was smeared all over his clean garments. He made a silly sight, standing knee deep in the muck, breathless from laughing._

_“Rickon!” Jon cried, seizing his brother´s wrist and pulling him out of the mud. “What have you done?”_

_“I wanted to build a mudman.” His brother explained. “It fell apart. Can you lift me up?”_

_Jon could not help but oblige. He lifted Rickon high in the air, and then caught him again, much to his brother´s amusement. He giggled and squealed in his hands._

_Beside them, Theon wrinkled his nose. “You ruined your clothes, bastard.”_

_Jon ignored him, swirling Rickon around in a circle, until his little face turned as red as his hair._

_“Again!” He squealed happily. “Again, again!”_

“Jon?”

Jon jerked upright at the soft knock on the door. Theon stepped in, his face tight and nervous. Jon felt a tingling sensation in his bowels.

“I…I can come back.” Said Theon, eyeing the tub.

"No," Jon blurted, drawing himself up. “Why don’t you...why don´t you join me?”

For a long moment his words hung in the air, lingering with a sickly silence.

Theon´s face fell and he wrung his hands together. "I...I don´t..." He broke off and licked his lips, looking terribly uncomfortable. "I don´t like baths." 

Jon´s guts clenched at his response. He rose from the tub, water running down his naked back and trickling from his hair. He crossed the floor and closed the door and shutters on the windows, one by one. When he finished, he stood in front of Theon, the other man trembling slightly. 

Jon pulled him in for a soft kiss, feeling the cold blood through his skin, so different from the warmth that was all around them. "You used to." 

Theon shifted uneasily. "No, that..that wasn´t me..." He told him, his mouth a broken shape. "Not really." 

"Stop that." Said Jon, taking his hand in his own, flexing his fingers. "You´re still him, still _you_ , you always were." 

Theon said nothing, only gripped his hand for dear life. "Jon." He said at last, his voice cracking. "Don´t leave me. Please, not you, not you too." 

"Never." Jon promised, drawing him closer. "Never." . 

For a long time they stayed there, simply enjoying the closeness of each other´s bodies. Jon rested his chin on the curve of Theon´s neck, kissing the tender skin behind his ear."You´re shivering." 

Theon played with the soap, letting it slip past his missing fingers and into the water before picking it up again. "I was outside." He told Jon, blushing." I was searching for a raven."  

Jon wrapped an arm around his middle, drowning in the green sea of his eyes. "Who were you writing?" 

“My sister.”

Jon felt a chill run through him. "Oh." Was all he could say.

"I just...I wanted to apologize, wanted to explain. She tried to help me all along, tried to save me, but I was a fool." 

"She came for you?" 

Theon´s eyes were full of sorrow. "Aye, but I wouldn´t go. I was too scared, too broken. She risked her life for me, and I repaid her with treachery." He said, tears trickling from his eyes. "I was so stupid, I should have listened to her, I should have-"

_Should have..._

"Theon." Jon said firmly. "Don´t. She is your sister. If she still came for you after the things you did, she will always love you."

Theon nodded, but he seemed unconvinced. 

Jon buried his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him, closing his eyes. He ran his hand across Theon´s back and chest, allowing the water to push the bath oil down the rest of him. When Theon turned to face him again Jon reached to touch his face, stroking his cheeks, jaw, forehead,light brown eyebrows. 

"What?" Theon asked when he noticed how Jon looked at him. 

"Can I touch your eyebrows?" Jon asked. It was already halfway out of his mouth before he knew it.

Theon squinted his eyes, laughing. "Yes?" He kept grinning, and his eyes were light and so very green. It was worth it to be laughed at for the chance to see Theon like this, the relief of that unexpected giggle having killed the nervous energy. Jon lifted his hand and held Theon´s face between them as he brushed his thumb softly over his wet eyebrows. Theon turned pink, but perahaps it was from the warm water. 

"You look good." Jon told him, forcing his voice to stay steady. He kept enough distance between the two of them to avoid bumping any part of Theon with his hardening cock, which had began to feel like it weighted fifty stones, aching and swollen. 

"Stop." Theon smiled, the pink on his cheeks deepening to red. 

"It´s true." Jon insisted. "You´re beautiful." 

Theon tensed in his hold, and for a horrible second Jon though that he had said something wrong, something that Ramsay had said. But then the other man chuckled, and Jon sagged against him.

"You don´t look so bad yourself." Theon muttered. "Can I...?"

"You can do anything." Jon told him. "Anything, to me. Don´t you know that by know?" 

Theon let out a deep breath, and bent to press his mouth to Jon´s. At first it was just kissing, but then lips gave way to tongues and more than that, and slowly, bit by bit, they began to melt aganist each other, to strip off the rest of Theon´s clothes, to entwine. His skin was soft against Jon´s, and his throat and his chest, his hands gentle caresses on Jon´s wherever they traced. The bruises had faded now, disappeared as if they had never been there. 

 _I am yours and you are mine._  Jon thought foolishly as they fell apart in each other´s arms.  _Now and always._

He could not tell Theon that of course; it would only frighten him, but the thought lingered, like a warm lump in his belly

 

* * *

In the light of dawn, they dressed and readied their horses.

Sansa watched the sun rise above the horizon, bleaching Castle Black the color of salmon.  

Lady Melisandre greeted them in the yard, promising to light a fire for their luck and to keep the lord of light on their journey. Jon thanked the strange woman for her prayers, but Sansa did not trust her.

 _Her eyes are as blue as death, her_ _skin as smooth as porcelain. She looks like a doll; lifeless, and without flaw._

“I must say that the cold suits you far better than it ever suited me.” She told Sansa, surveying every inch of her, like a butcher exanimating a piece of flesh. It reminded her of how Littlefinger used to study the Lords and Ladies in King´s Landing, as if he was carefully contemplating whether they could be used for his benefit. How exactly, she did not know, just as she did not know Lord Petyr himself.

_A mockingbird sings so many songs, all of them at once to keep the other birds confused._

She did not have much time to think about Littlefinger now though. The gate rumbled open, the weight of the door straining the squeaking chains as they raised it.

A cold breeze flitted through the tunnel and set her red hair swaying. It had a finality to it.

 _This is it_. Sansa thought as she mounted her stallion. _Win or lose._

Brienne rode up beside her, bowing her head. “My lady.” She said. Jon´s wildling friend winked at her, but she ignored him. “Are you certain of this?”

“Yes.”

“Then I will do everything in my power to pursue your uncle. I swear this to you on my life.”

“I have faith in you Brienne.” Said Sansa. “Just be careful, and come back safe.”

Podrick smiled warmly. “Good luck.”

They rode for half a day, Jon and Tormund leading the way. Sansa and Theon rode somewhat behind the others, keeping their distance to the gruff wildlings.

“You should have left me behind.” Said Theon, squirming in his saddle. “It would have been safer.”

“It will be fine.” Sansa assured him. “The wildlings won’t mind you. They hardly even know who you are.”

Theon´s face was scrunched up. “It´s not the wildlings I´m worried about.” He told her. “I do not trust them, but Jon does, and I trust him. It´s just…what if the Northern Lords won´t help us? What if…what if Ramsay wins? ”

Sansa was struck by an old memory, of Cersei, taking a sip from her goblet of wine.

_“I told you earlier of ser Illyn.” She said. “I lied. Do you want to know the truth? Do you want to know why he´s really here?”_

_Sansa did not know what to say, so she said nothing. She lowered her head; an implied submission._

_Cersei´s eyes flitted over her face, her lidded eyes as green as wildfire. “He is here for us, little dove.” She smirked, but it was bitter. “Stannis may take the city, take the throne, but he won´t take us alive.”_

Sansa eyes were distant. _Win or lose._

_Win or die._

"He won´t." She decided, drawing herself up. "And when the bastard is dead, I´m going to bake a lemon cake, and eat it in his bed." 


	6. Plans

Moonlight glimmered brightly across the surface of the snow, reflecting silver-and-white beams into Theon´s eyes.

He tugged off his gloves, and wrapped his fingers around his steaming bowl of soup. The heat rolling off it soothed his cold hands. As he drank it, he could feel it run down his throat, and into his stomach. A stark contrast to his surroundings.

Next to him, Ghost lay quiet but alert, his white pawns stained brown from the long walk, his chin red from his meal. They sat apart from the others, regarded suspiciously by the wildlings. Their eyes were tinged with fear upon seeing the large wolf.

“Lord Greyjoy, is it?” A cheerful voice said, and Theon craned his neck to see ser Davos.

“Aye.” Theon mumbled, drawing his hood up against the sharp wind.

“May I sit?” The old man asked, already lowering himself to the ground. “My back isn’t itself these days.”

 _What is?_ Theon mused.

Davos shifted beside him. "I´ve never liked the cold." He continued. "It reminds me too much of death." 

Theon snorted. “What do you want?”

Davos slapped some snow from his boots, and drew a wineskin from his pocket. “I thought we could talk, one night owl to another.”

Ghost crawled over and lay his dirty head in Theon´s lap, purring softly. Theon stroked his back, tangling out the knots in his fur. “You don’t want to talk to me.”

Davos raised a grey brow. “And why is that?”

Theon snorted. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Of course I do, lad.” Said Davos. “You´re quite famous, did you know?”

“Infamous.” Theon corrected him bitterly. “They all want to mount my head on a spike.”

“The north remembers.” Davos told him.” You betrayed their king, murdered his baby brothers. I do not blame them.”  

Theon sighed. “It wasn’t Bran and Rickon that I killed.”  

“Oh, I know. But the northerners will not hear the truth, not even if you were to shove those two lads in their faces. “Davos explained. “I understand that you want to redeem yourself, lord Greyjoy, but in this case, I am afraid it just is not possible.”

Theon rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I don’t want redemption.” He admitted. “I would rather have the people I love safe and well than to have revenge on those who hurt them.”

Davos raised the wineskin to his lips with gloved hands and took a sip. “Still, you must want the Bolton boy dead? For what he did to you, for what his family did to the Starks.”

Theon could not deny it, but if he had learned one thing from Ramsay it was that you did not have to mean the things you said. “Aye.” He told Davos. “I want him dead.” Though he was not sure of it. Did he want the man who had tortured him for years to die? The man who had kept him as a dog, stolen his name? The man who had raped him and left him to rot in the kennels?

 _Lord Bolton only hurts me if I give him cause._ A small voice told him _. He is merciful, just, he loved me-_

Theon let out a shuddering breath, but it did not mist. It was far too cold for that.

 _Theon Greyjoy._ Jon would whisper to him when he woke from a nightmare. _Theon Greyjoy. Your name is Theon Greyjoy._ It was not that he had forgotten, but he feared that the other him might return. The one that was still loyal to his master, the one who would to anything to please him…

“Oh, I almost forgot, lad.” Davos said, pulling out a letter from the inside of his doublet. “I have something for you.”

Theon took the parchment, running his fingers over the smooth edge of the Greyjoy sigil.

_Asha._

_She wrote me back._

"Where did you get this?" 

"Why, from a raven of course. It´s hard for them poor fellows to fly in these storms." 

Theon broke the seal as carefully as he was able, and rolled out the letter with trembling fingers.

_Little brother._

_You were a cunt and a halfwit, there is no denying that, but I would be damned if I said that you are no longer my kin. You may have deserved to be executed, but you did not deserve what you got._

_Father is dead. Our beloved uncle Euron returned from only god knows where and killed him to claim the crown. The prick meant to kill me too, but I did not let him. I stole a hundred ships and headed north to hide, but it did not go my way. The sea has started to freeze, baby brother, and the air is growing colder each passing day. If we stay here much longer, my boats will stick to the ice._

_So, I have a proposal to those Starks you love so much. I will help you defeat the bastard, for what he has done to us both, if you help me kill the Crow´s Eye. I know that the Greenlanders are not fond of us islanders, but we are not looking for friendship._

_Meet me at the shore outside Deepwood Motte in a fortnight if you wish to speak more._

_Asha._

Shock went through Theon to his toes, and the words sunk like a stone to his stomach. Confused and unsettled, he kept staring at the piece of paper, trying to process the imformation in his head.  

 _My father is dead._ He knew. _I should feel sad._  

Still he failed to summon the feeling.

_Why is that? Why, why?_

Davos touched his arm, but he was already stumbling to his feet, running through the darkness and in danger of breaking his bones, tripping on the ice or crashing into some poor wildling. Still he did not stop. His breath was coming short, and his chest felt as light as a feather. 

 _As light as hope._ He realized. _As light as fear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I toyed with this Asha-helps-out-idea for ages, contemplating if I should go for it or not. Let me know your thoughts. Comments are always appreciated. :)
> 
> Also, FYI, I don´t like Yara. I think that she´s verbally abusive, and much more power hungry than her book counterpart. Asha though, she´s the best.


	7. Asha

The further out they sailed, the harder the wind blew. Theon had suspected this, had experienced everything of an ocean storm as a child and more, but all his fears and complaints went ignored by ser Davos. “Don’t piss your breeches, lad.” The old man cackled. “I used to smuggle onions across the Narrow Sea. There, the waves were ten times higher than these. In fact, we used to call this a sunny day!”

Theon climbed the stairs to the deck in an attempt to judge where they were, but it was no clearer up here than it had been looking through his cabin window. The haze was everywhere, a moving white cloud of it. 

Standing at the stern, he caught a glimpse of Sansa, her tall figure nothing but a faint shadow across the misty deck, a grey silhouette with red hair swirling in the wind.

He had expected somewhat of a fuss when he presented the idea of letting ironborn savages join their army. It would not come as a surprise, considering the amount of damage the islanders had caused throughout the North. Though when Sansa had finished reading his sister´s letter, she simply looked at him and said.  “I´ll come with you.” 

“Are you…sure?” Theon struggled to speak. “My sister can be a bit…invasive.” Then he tried to tell her of the ironborn, of how they spoke crudely, and always put their feet up on the table when they ate. Sansa had always disliked such behavior, had always yelled at Arya whenever she refused to act like a proper lady. Theon just could not imagine the two of them seeing eye to eye.

“Is she trustworthy?” Asked Sansa, squinting through the haze.

“Aye. “ Theon said, nodding. Asha had never betrayed anyone. She had always stayed loyal to her kin, even if that kin happened to be an old dried-up eel like Balon Greyjoy or a craven fool like himself.

Three days later, Theon could spot the shore of Bear Island, a crescent of dark sand surrounded by high mountains and pine trees. He studied them profoundly, trying to recall the last time he had seen anything so green. 

Before they docked, Jon seized Theon by the hand and guided him inside his cabin, pressing him against the wall and kissing him goodbye. It still seemed strange to Theon, that he could still want this when so many people had used it make him feel worthless. That he still wanted it from Jon, who knew how to transform such an brutal act into the feeling that Theon was worth so much, so much that Jon could hold the whole world in the palm of his hand, and still chose to toss it away, for Theon.

“Take care of Sansa for me, alright?” He murmured into his mouth. “And Ghost.”

Theon´s lips turned slightly upwards. “I don’t think he likes the life at sea.” He breathed, licking Jon´s bottom lip. “He wouldn’t eat the fish I gave him.”

“I bet he likes squid.” Jon joked. “I mean, he has been following _you_ around.”

For some reason, the jape startled Theon, perhaps because it came out of Jon´s mouth. The man never japed, Theon knew, yet he found himself laughing. That startled him even more.

“Will you be alright?” Jon asked him at last, kissing the tip of his nose.

Theon kissed his lips. “I think so. Will you?”

"I'll miss you." 

Theon smiled. "Be careful."

"You too."

And with that, Jon went.

That night, Theon could not sleep, an anxious feeling tugging at his insides. Only hours ago he had been filled with hope, but now, his weariness was on him, making him sick and restless. He laid in the darkness, listening to the wind until he could no longer stand it. Rising to his feet, he wandered upstairs, back to Jon´s empty cabin. There he crawled underneath the covers, and buried his face in his pillow, smelling the lingering scent of him there.

After what felt like forever, he dozed, slipping into the pit of a terrifying repetitive dream.

_His head was full of screaming, and his throat was raw from it. Terror was flickering before his eyes as the whip struck him again and again._

_Behind him, Ramsay laughed like a mad man, his pale eyes glimmering with dark lust._

_“What´s your name?” He whispered in his ear. “What´s your name?”_

Theon woke with a jerk, his heart stuttering in his chest. It hurt. He did not feel the pain in his body, but he felt it nonetheless. He rose to his feet and leaned out the window, the hard wood rough and solid beneath his chest. The sea raged below him. It crashed against the side of the ship like a hungry beast, as if desiring to shallow the boat whole. 

 _The sea is strong._ Theon thought as he breathed in the salty air. _You can plunge a sword into it, tear it apart and divide it. It will not stop you, for it is soft and pliable, but it will recover. It will survive._

“Theon Greyjoy.” He told himself, now that Jon was away. “Theon. My name is Theon.”

* * *

Four days later, the sea had settled considerable, the stern currents from before had ceased into sloping ones, all foam and dirty ice.

As they reached the shore, Theon tucked his green cloak snugly around his shoulders and stepped off the boat and onto the beach. His torch flickered in the dark. Sansa and Ghost kept pace with him, the wolf´s warm side brushing Theon´s leg with each step.

Before them, stood Asha. She looked rougher than Theon had ever known her to be, her big blue eyes darting tiredly about. Her men were restless behind her. Whispers of “treacherous” and “coward” rustled through the air, but when Theon looked the ironborn´s lips were firmly shut.

Sansa looked solemn, yet weary of his sister. Her eyes scanned curiously over her battered armor, and the rusty axe that dangled at her waist.

They did not speak for several moments. Theon shivered with nervous energy.

Then, Asha briskly cleared her men from the area, ordering them that she be left alone to speak with her baby brother in private. When they had scurried away, she stepped towards them.

“Little brother.” She greeted him, coming forward and laying her hand on his arm. “You look…” She paused, her eyes sweeping over Theon. “Better. Do you remember me this time?”

Despite himself, Theon managed a weak smile. “Asha.” He croaked. “Sister.”

“Aye. “ Said Asha, her voice holding warmth.  

“Lady Greyjoy.” Sansa said with a slight nod. “It´s an honor to finally meet you. Theon has told me so much about you.”

Asha stared back at the redhead, her eyes examining her all over.  “If I had known you were this pretty, Stark, mayhaps I wouldn’t have questioned why my brother refused to leave your side.” 

Sansa´s cheeks turned pink. “Oh,” She blurted, looking away. “We aren’t…”

“No?” Asha drawled, leaning closer to Sansa. “There´s more to a man than what´s in his breeches, did you know?”

Theon flinched at her words, his throat tied up. 

_How does she know about that?_

Asha glanced at her brother. “Alright.” She said, swaggering backwards. “So I won´t bring that up. Now, tell me about your battle plans. How many men does the Bolton bastard have?”

Sansa bit her lip. “Six thousand.”

“How wonderful.” Said Asha dryly. “How many do you have?”

“Two.” Theon said grimly, the word thick on his tongue.

“And I have about half of that, more or less. It isn’t enough. ”

“We have sent ravens to several Northern houses. In fact, Jon Snow is negotiating with house Mormont at this very moment.” Theon continued. “If all of them agree to help us, it might be.”

Asha ceased her brow. “And if they don´t?”

Theon swallowed. “Then we´ll fight, with the army we have.”

“No.” Asha said firmly. “I´m not sacrificing my people for the Starks, baby brother. I´m not dying for the house who burned our home and killed our brothers. Not if it´s a fight we cannot win.”

Ghost pressed up against Sansa, and she stroked his ears. “My uncle, the Blackfish might come to our aid.” She said, meeting Asha´s eyes briefly. ”And if he doesn’t, Petyr Baelish will.”  


	8. Can you still be brave if you are afraid?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That is the only time you can be brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Recognizable dialoge from episode 6.09

Smoke from the fires was sharp in the air, making Sansa feel sick. Men huddled together around their campfires, sipping from cups of ale or strongwine, roasting chunks of meat over the flames. They had made camp near the mountains, in the same place Stannis Baratheon stayed before he was defeated. Their army was big, but not huge. There was about three and a half thousands of them in all. Hornwoods, Mazins, Mormonts, wildlings and ironborn reavers, none of them thrilled by the fact that they had to sleep so close to one another.

It worried her though, that if Petyr Baelish were to change his mind, or if he was playing a different game to begin with, then the other parts of their army might desert them as well.

 _That is unlikely._ Sansa told herself. _Littlefinger has always disliked unpredictable people. He would never want a mad dog like Ramsay Bolton to rule the North._

Absentmindedly, she wondered how the knights of the Vale would react if she ordered the sword brought down on him after the battle was done.

Would they stop her?

Would they let her?

Would they crown her queen?

 _Queen._ She tasted the word on her tongue. It was all she had craved for, a lifetime ago, to be Joffrey´s queen, Joffrey´s wife, back when she had been nothing but a stupid child, a fair maiden, the traitor´s daughter. Sometimes it still felt strange to think about it, to look back, and reflect on how exactly she had gotten here.

_I played the game, even if I did not know it. I pretended to be the Lannister´s little bird, the Imp´s wife, Alayne, Sansa Bolton. I became whoever they wanted me to be; their priced possession, their tradable asset, their pretty doll._

But Sansa was not a doll anymore, nor did she act like one. She no longer slouched her shoulders, or hunched her back. She no longer looked as if she was lost. The meek, silenced girl who she had once been was gone, and she had finally realized the importance of her voice.

She walked through the camp, breathing in the frosty air. Tomorrow they would ride to Winterfell. Tomorrow they would speak to _him_. Tomorrow they would know. Sansa ran her fingers over the heavy parchment in her pocket. It was stained with blood. Whose, she did not dare think.

_Gods, don’t let it be Rickon´s._

“Sansa.”

She turned to see Theon. He stared at her with wide, watery eyes. The memory of him kneeling before Ramsay struck her mind with a dull thud. “Yes?”

“I can´t…I can´t go with you tomorrow. I can´t face him.” 

Sansa grabbed his trebling hand, and mingled their fingers together. “You can. We will all be there with you. Me, Jon, Brienne, Davos and Asha.”

“I´m not brave enough to do it. “ Whimpered Theon. “I would die for you on the battlefield. I would do anything. But not this, not-“

Sansa cut him off. “You are brave.” She told him fiercely. “You´re the bravest person that I know.”

_I love you._

_We all do._

Theon looked as if he might cry.

Sansa squeezed his hand. “I need you by my side.”

Theon bit his lip, but he could not stop the tears that fell from his eyes. “Alright.” He croaked at last. “I´ll…I´ll try.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

 Despite the warm furs that covered his shoulders, Theon shivered violently, the spasm racking him to the bone.

They waited in silence. Beside him, Sansa stared at him as if he might break at any moment. Jon squirmed in his saddle, watching him with a reassuring smile.

 _You can do this._ _I believe in you._ His eyes said.

Theon wanted to smile back, but he was not sure if he could. So he kept looking forward, quivering, feeling colder and colder by the second.

It had started to snow when Ramsay finally arrived. He was surrounded by his men, but Theon paid them no mind. All that mattered were his pale, soulless eyes, and their silent amusement. And the bundle of dark fur in the palm of his hand.

_What is that? What is it?_

“My beloved wife. My dear Reek.” Ramsay begun. “I missed you terribly.”

Sansa took a deep breath, and turned to look at her former husband. Theon was proud of her. Here and now, she did not falter. She fixed Ramsay with a penetrating stare, her eyes like two dark pits. "It´s Theon. " She said. "You know his name. And I am not your wife."

Ramsay ignored her. “Thank you for returning them to me safely.” He said, turning his attention to Jon. “Now, dismount and kneel before me. Surrender your army, and proclaim me the true lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night´s Watch, I will pardon these treacherous lords for betraying my house.  ”

A moment of silence passed. Did he, Theon wondered, truly expect them to surrender?

But that was only a moment, then Ramsay continued. “Come, bastard. You don’t have the men. You don’t have the horses. And you don’t have Winterfell. Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? There´s no need for a battle. Get off your horse, and kneel. I am a man of mercy.”

_Liar._

“You monster.” Asha hissed, her voice more dangerous than Theon ever remembered it being. “I´ll make _you_ kneel, I´ll-”

Jon spoke over her. “He´s right. There´s no need for a battle. Thousands of men don’t need to die.” He turned his gaze on Ramsay. “Let´s end this the old way; you against me.”

Theon felt panic sear through him, cold as ice.

_No._

_He will cheat. He will trick you. He will win._

_He always do._

For a second Ramsay´s face did not move, then he clapped his hands. “I´ll keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the north talk about you; you’re the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good. Maybe not.” He made a strained chuckling noise. ”I don’t know if I´d beat you, but I know that my army will beat yours. I have six thousand men. You have, what? Half that? Not even?”  

 _Six and a half, actually._ Theon thought smugly, though Jon did not know about the knights of the Vale yet. Sansa had not let him tell him.

_“Jon is your brother.” Said Theon. “You can trust him.”_

_Sansa bit her lip. “I know, I do. It´s just…Jon can be…hot-tempered somethings, Impulsive. What if he decides to seek out lord Baelish? What if anyone sees him? What if Ramsay finds out? What if he won´t let him help us at all?”_

Jon squinted his eyes. “Aye, you have the numbers _._ Will your men want to fight for you, when they´ll hear you wouldn’t fight for them?”  

That seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, though recovered quickly. “He´s good. Very good.” Said Ramsay, waving his finger in the air. “Tell me, would you let your little brother die, because you´re too proud to surrender?”

“How do we know you have him?” Sansa asked abruptly.

Shaggydog´s head was thrown at their horses’ feet.

Theon nearly retched, though this was far from the most gruesome thing he had seen. No, the problem was seeing one gruesome thing brought back the others, all the memories he so desperately wanted to forget.

_The head laid in his cell._

_Theon sank to the ground, trembling. He pushed back the red hair, full of dirt and twigs. Those eyes, Tully blue eyes, was fathomless in his slack face._

_Robb´s life´s blood, puddled under his cheek._

_Theon screamed._

Theon turned away in disgust, trying to master himself.

One of Ramsay´s men were laughing, his high-pitched voice cutting through the air.

Without warning, Asha reached for her axe and drew it, her eyes darkened by rage. Jon stopped her before she could throw it, grabbing her wrist.  

 “No, please, let her. Nothing makes me harder than watching a whore kill someone.” Said Ramsay, grinning. “Well, except for the thought of having my wife back in my bed of course. But don’t despair, lady Greyjoy; there will always be room for one more. ”

“You´re going to die tomorrow, lord Bolton.” Sansa said firmly, her voice laced with contempt. “Sleep well.”

Then she took Theon by the hand, and together they turned their horses around.

And left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for all your kudos and comments. Each and every one of them mean so much to me!❤️


	9. The night before the slaughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the shameless smut people. I am sorry.

That night, Jon tossed and turned in his bed, unable to fall sleep. He rose to his feet, and walked to the tent´s window. The moon shone full and bright in the dark blue sky, bathing the world in a yellow light. 

Someone shuffled behind him, and he spun around. But it was only Theon, standing there in his plain clothes. A candle flickered in his hand, causing his hair to shine like an autumn leaf.

“Theon?" Jon whispered, anxiously. “What's wrong?”

Theon shook his head, dipping his face into shadow. “No, it's just...I couldn’t sleep.”He man moved closer, slipping into the circle of Jon's arms. Jon wrapped himself around him, pressing him firmly to his chest. His hair smelled of smoke and salt, and Jon breathed him in deeply.

“I´m afraid, Jon. Do you think... can you..." Theon rambled, shaking slightly. "Can you help me not to be. I want to...please...”

Jon shushed him, running his hands down his head and kissing his lips. “There´s no shame in that.” He told him. “I feel fear as well.”

“I...want..." Theon whimpered, his hands coming up to cup Jon´s face, his eyes blazing.

Jon inhaled sharply, and then his mouth was on Theon´s, soft and warm. He understood; he did not want to be alone now either. "Do you want to stay?" 

Theon made a small noise in his throat and dipped his hands under Jon´s tunic, slipping it over his head. “Yes.” 

For a long moment, they stood there, kissing in silence, until the kisses turned into desperate touching, Theon melting under his hands.

"I want to...I think, can I use my mouth?" he croaked, flushed and needy.

“W-what?” Jon cried, confused and dizzy. You don´t... Where does this come from?”

Theon shook his head, keening against Jon´s chest. “Nowhere, I just...” He breathed, his hands all over Jon. “We might die tomorrow and I…”

Jon met his eyes. “It´s alright, Theon. I understand.” He murmured. “But you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to that for me. I want you to feel good too."

Theon stared at him. “I´m not going to do it _for_ you.” He breathed. “I...I want to.”

Jon´s heart was beating terribly fast, their lips so close that they touched when they spoke. “Are you…are you sure?”

“Yes.” Theon said, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking at Jon from beneath lowered eyelids. Jon closed the short distance between him and the bed and stepped between Theon´s thighs. He rested his hands on his hips, felt the warm skin through his woolen trousers. Somehow, it felt as if they were both holding their breath. And then Theon was leaning in again, one hand slipping on the edge of the table and the other reaching for Jon´s breeches, yanking them down and searching for his cock, while the other man was pulling him closer.

Gods, it was almost too much, too fast. Not just the feel of Theon´s hand, making Jon shudder, fast, warm sparks that shot right through him. But the sight of it. Theon´s soft fingers working Jon´s cock, and Jon´s hand right next to it, wrapped around his wrist. It did not feel real, none of it did, except that it was – they were really here, and this was not some hazy dream. It made everything in his mind shut down except for the need to feel more of this, and then to forget about tomorrow, to make Theon forget about tomorrow. Something painful squirmed in Jon´s stomach to think that this time, might be their last.

Theon seemed so eager, his cheeks holding a faint blush as he slid his hand over Jon´s hardening cock, his other hand clutching Jon´s shoulder tightly.  Jon suddenly got a flash of what it might look like someone were to walk in on that moment, the two of them hanging on to each other´s naked bodies.

_They would most likely name me traitor and cut off my head._

Theon let his hand slide down to his balls, caressing them gently and then back up to his prick, causing Jon´s mouth fall open in a moan.

“Do you like that?” Theon asked, massaging with a firm hand.

“I…I thought you wanted to use your mouth.” Jon gasped, closing his eyes for a moment and allowing the hot waves of pleasure ripple over him.

“I will” Theon smiled, slow and appreciative. He kept up the leisurely slide of his hand around Jon´s cock, but he also brought one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a slow, open-mouthed kiss. Jon moaned into his mouth. Theon´s lips were so lush, and his tongue so clever and hot. Jon made helpless sounds and grabbed at his arse with possessive hands.

At that, Theon slid to the ground. He licked his lips, brief but with a touch of intent as if he was doing it on purpose. Jon´s breath caught in his throat just as the sight of him, kneeling on the floor like that.

Absentmindedly, he slid a finger over Theon´s lips, glistering with saliva. He peered up at Jon shyly, eyes fierce as he curled his tongue around the finger, sucking softly.

“What are you doing?” Jon asked, though he was already pushing his finger further into Theon´s mouth, jarred when he whimpered lewdly around it.

“You´ll see.” Theon told him, releasing the finger with a slick sound. Then he leaned forward, edging nearer so that he could nuzzle the crease of Jon´s groin. His cock throbbed against his cheek, a slick, hard length pressing up against Theon´s lips. Jon grabbed hold of his curls when Theon glanced up again, biting at the fullness of his bottom lip.

“T-Theon-“His voice sounded uneven. “Please.”

Theon reached up to Jon´s hips and let his fingers stroke the softness of his skin, then pressed his lips against his swollen shaft. Jon let out a hiss of pleasure, his hand clenching around a fistful of Theon´s chestnut curls. Theon opened his mouth and let his lips glide over the length of it.

_Gods._

Jon´s cock pulsed hard against his mouth, pre-come collecting at the slit. Then, at last, Theon took hold of the base and guided it into his mouth. Ygritte had done this once, in another tent, before another battle, and it had felt good, but not quite like this. No one but Theon had ever made him feel like this, this good.

Theon took as much as he could, sinking down until his lips brushed the hand that was wrapped around the base of Jon´s shaft. He placed the other hand around one of Jon´s thighs, gripping it for support. Slowly, carefully, Jon started to shift his hips, thrusting forward as the wet sounds of skin on skin and his own breaths and moans filled the air.

 “Ah-“ He groaned, throatily, and Theon tugged Jon´s trousers down further to get better access, nuzzling at the soft bundle of hair around the base of his cock, at his balls, before sucking him down again, so deep that Jon´s eyes stung with tears.

“T-Theon, are you…” He panted, leaning back against the wall for a moment. “Are you alright?”

Theon made a approving sound in response, and Jon cupped his jaw in his hands and thrust in, Theon´s eyes watering as he gasped around Jon, smiling with his eyes.

“That´s good.” Jon told him, tilting his head back in bliss. “You´re so good, Gods.” He held Theon´s head in place, running his fingers messily through the other man´s mussed strands as his throat closed around him.

Oh, how he would have loved to have Theon spread out naked on the bed and simply stare at him for hours. To savor every part, every perfect imperfection, every scar, every muscle.  But he knew that the other man would not be comfortable with feeling so exposed. So instead continued to follow Theon´s lead, arching his back as he swallowed Jon down.

Soon, it became too much. He thrusted deep, then deeper, and Theon tightened his hands on Jon´s thighs, feeling his muscles tensing, his whole body ready for release. “Theon, I´m-“He cried out loudly, and the first spurts of his climax hit Theon´s throat, his cock jerking fiercely. Theon´s fingers went to squeeze his bum, palming it roughly as his mouth filled with Jon´s seed. Jon´s head fell back against the wall, mouth gaping, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself.

Theon continued to suck until Jon´s legs started to shiver. 

"Seven hells.” Jon pulled out, slightly ashamed. “I´m sorry. I didn’t mean to…it just, it happened so fast.”

Theon smiled lazily. “That´s alright.” He rasped. “I liked it.”

Jon pressed their foreheads together, tasting himself on Theon's lips. “You´ll like it far more when I´m done with you.”

Theon blushed. “That´s alright.” He begun, his green eyes suddenly distant. “You don’t have to do that. “

Jon shook his head, laying down on the bed. He repeated Theon´s words. “I want to.”

Theon blushed, and Jon bent to unbuckle his boots, then waited for Theon to do the rest. For a moment he just stood there, not sure what to do. Jon gave him a warm smile. “Why don’t you take off the rest?”

Theon swallowed thickly. His cheeks darkening further at the words, his cheeks flushing with heat.

“I want to see you” Jon admitted softly, twisting up on the bed and palming slowly at his raw cock as Theon peeled of his tunic and unbuttoned his breeches with clumsy fingers.

Rubbing his thumb over the bulge of his prick, Jon gave Theon a shy smile. Theon stepped out of his trousers and stood in his smallclothes, and Jon´s mouth watered at the sight. His cock was not hard, but it was getting there, and as Theon stared at him, it twitched upwards.

“Come here.” Jon said, feeling hollow with wanting him, a fierce mix of tenderness and need rising up inside him, and he bent his head to Theon´s throat. Their legs brushed together as his hands mover wonderingly over Jon´s stomach and down, feeling his cock from its nest of black curls. Jon dragged his hands across Theon´s back, feeling the skin catch on the rough pads of his fingers. It was softer than anything Jon had ever known, but there was nothing soft about the teeth that was boring down to bite at his collarbone, the forehead that brushed into the V-shape right above it, the smell of salt driving Jon mad.

He pressed his lips to Theon´s neck and started to let his hands wander, grabbing his ass with firm hands, his fingers scraping over Theon´s shoulder and the tender skin of his throat. He felt almost savage, the need to devour Theon resurfacing, his hands and mouth intent on making him come.

Theon seemed to enjoy it, his face lit up as he sunk one hand into Jon´s back, one in Jon´s hair, tugging hard enough to make his scalp burn with pain and meeting Theon´s mouth in a sloppy kiss that was almost too wild. Jon moved above him until he had one knee on Theon´s thigh, pushing him into the furs with his cock dragging pre-come, slick and dripping across the flat of Theon´s belly.

Theon gasped, and shut his eyes, which was perhaps why he jerked when Jon managed to flip them both right over, rolling so that Theon was on his back with Jon sitting on his hips. He lay there panting, his eyes fizzling with confusion and need. 

“Tell me what you want.” Jon said, his voice breaking a little.

The lump in Theon´s throat bobbed. “I…I want you to-“He hesitated, shy. “I want you to touch me.

Jon smiled. “Where?” He asked, the head of his cock skimming the crease of Theon´s arse, but he could not get half as close as he wanted to. Rebellion squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“Jon, please, you know where. ” Theon whimpered. “Fuck me.”

Jon nuzzled along the line of Theon´s jaw, letting his lips slip against the stubble there, and Theon´s body jerked underneath him. His face gleamed in the flickering light. His body was all angles, silhouettes playing over his pale skin, revealing a hundred scars, the ridges of his rib case. Jon thought that he looked beautiful, just lying there on the bed.

“Roll over.”

Theon obliged, his head resting on one of Jon´s pillows.

Jon ran his fingers over the base of his spine, brushing the pad of his thumb just above the cleft of his ass. Spitting in his hand, he pressed a finger inside, up to the knuckle, and Theon gasped into the pillow. He pushed his arse back against Jon´s hand, desperate for more, and Jon pushed in deeper, twisting his wrist and resting the other hand on the small of his back.

“Ah-“Theon sighed. “Jon.”

Jon slipped his finger out, slow and lingering, then quickly in again and Theon jerked to meet it. “I want you, Theon.” Jon breathed, stroking across the furl of his ass again and pressed two fingers against it. “Have you no idea how beautiful you are?”

“Ah, no.” Theon blushed, slightly out of it. “Just...just one.”

Jon pushed a single finger in so neatly that it made Theon flinch. He made a sound between a moan and a sigh. “Do you like it?” Jon´s voice was hoarse. “Does it hurt?”

 “Yes, yes.” Theon told him, his fingers tightening into fists around the furs. “I mean no, it doesn’t hurt. It feels- ah- good.”

At that, Jon pulled out, leaving Theon empty and craving more while he shifted on the bed until he was behind Theon. He moved Theon´s ass up and back so that he could reach it better, and then he pulled his cheeks apart as he lined himself up, spitting some more saliva onto his dripping cock.

A trickle of pre-come spilled wetly down Theon´s thigh and then Jon´s cock was pressing inside, slow and steady. Theon´s head sank down into the pillow, his breath stuttering as Jon slid deeper and deeper.

The tightness was intense, but oh, so satisfying. Jon could only wish that Theon felt the same pleasure. When his balls pressed against the cleft of Theon´s ass, he stilled, and Theon´s legs trembled against his own.

“Jon.” Theon groaned, long and needy. “Jon, please, just-“

Jon´s cock was pulsing inside him, and his breath was so hot on Theon´s back, the leaner man´s scent all filling his nostrils. He wanted him so badly, wanted to make him come into oblivion, fuck him until no could not speak or move or remember or do anything other than revel in it.

 _“Please_.” Theon whimpered, and that brought him out of his thoughts, pushing his hand down firmly between Theon´s shoulder blades, pressing him into the furs. Then he drew his hips back, and slammed in again, hard and firm, and Theon made a sound like he had never heard before. Jon did not stop, but drove deep in to Theon over and over, and gods, that was deep. That was so deep. Jon struggled for a moment, trying to master the rhythm, trying to make it as pleasurable for Theon as possible, but Theon´s hand held him firm, and he sank back inside with a gasp.

He started to fuck him with long, hard strokes, and Theon could hardly move at all, except to push back against Jon, and he let go completely, more than he had thought possible considering the fact that they were walking into battle tomorrow, and something in him ignited with wonderful heat at the sensation of pleasing Theon. 

His jaw had been clenched, but now it fell open in a needy gasp. He angled his hips to drive deeper until he had access to the last, most intimate part on Theon´s body. He curled his body over Theon´s, flush against his back, his mouth close to Theon´s shoulder.

“J-Jon.” Theon cried, his voice unsteady. “ _More.”_

“Ah.” Jon gasped, pulling out and slamming back in, breathless. There was half a dozen more thrusts like that, his body slapping against Theon´s, slow but hard, and then Jon lost all self-control and simply pounded into him as hard and deep as he could.

Theon must have been on the edge for some time, and now he could no longer hold it. He let out a cry, and shuddered all over, whimpering Jon´s name again and again. Jon´s eyes fell close and all he could see was white, his balls swollen and heavy as he rammed into Theon, aching for release.

Theon was making more sounds, and Jon had to press him hand against his mouth to keep the people outside from hearing, if it was not already too late. He treaded his hand into Theon´s wet hair, almost tenderly, and whispered. “Theon. Theon _Theon._ ”

Then he dived over the brim.

* * *

 “Will he remember us?”

Theon turned towards Jon, his eyes fluttering open. He had just been on the verge of sleep.

“Who?” Murmured Theon, frowning slightly. He buried his face in Jon´s shoulder, reveling in the feel of his naked skin against his own. It sang of safety and comfort. Of childhood and home.

“Rickon.”

“Oh.” Theon could not say. His stomach twisted up at the thought of Rickon remembering the day he captured Winterfell. Of how Theon had treated him.

“I bet he remembers you.” Said Jon, fiddling with their furs. “You were always his favorite.”

“He´ll hate me.” Theon muttered into Jon´s neck. He paused. “He´ll want me dead.”

“I wanted that as well.” Said Jon. “Now look at me.”

Theon sighed. “I murdered ser Rodrik in front of his eyes.” He sniffed, unable to stop the tears that sprung to his eyes. “He screamed as I hacked off his head. He was so scared of me.”

Jon ran a hand down his curly hair tenderly. “Rickon will see that you have changed.” He said softly, shifting his head so that he could look Theon in the eye. “I promise.”

It was quiet. Only the sound of the wind broke the silence.

Theon found himself becoming drowsy. It was still dark. His eyes were drifting close even as he tried to count the dark eyelashes that rested against Jon´s cheek. He was warmer than he had ever remembered being with him safe in his arms.

“Theon?” Whispered Jon, sleep in his voice.

He made a soft hum in response.

“I love you.” Jon murmured quietly, and it took a long moment for the words to wink through the haze, but when they did, Theon had already fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was basically PWP. I very much enjoyed writing it though.


End file.
